Near's Lament
by Tkb4
Summary: This underlying guilt, forever haunting his dreams...He was alone. Oneshot. MelloxNear if you squint.


**AN: This is a small oneshot about Near's guilt three years after the Kira case has come to an end. It's just something I managed to choke up during a 70 minute English lesson where we had to write a short story.**

**I haven't ever written in Near's point of view before…So, I guess I'd give it a go XD**

**Disclaimer: Death Note doesn't belong to me, but the story does.**

**Hints of Mello x Near if you squint.**

**Enjoy ^^**

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_**Near's Lament**_

"I am alone."

Halle heard those words fall from the lips of the porcelain grade figure hunched over on the ground in front of her. Shadows danced over the boy's pale frame as he turned to stare at her with metallic grey eyes.

In the three years of experience she had working under this boy; she found that she still couldn't pick up any emotion from him whatsoever. Contrary to fact that he went by the name Near, after the Kira investigation had come to a close, he had distanced himself farther than before.

"There is nothing more I need to say."

Halle hadn't a clue as to why she had been reeled into this. She had been called in from her desk not only a moment ago to find herself the recipient of these lost and solemn words. Yet, this was so unlike the albino boy to speak of such a thing to a person like her.

He was her…boss, for lack of a better term, and she was his underling. They worked on orders and nothing else, so no personal guise was expected to form.

But this gesture, she knew, was real. The sadness that lingered on the edge of his usually monotone tongue had slipped through at the last second as the boy lowered his head a little in shame.

These last few months had been hard for everyone in the NPA, especially after recovering from their narrow triumph over the world's most notorious mass murderer, but Near had remained the same. Even after nearly leading their group of four into a trap that put their very lives on the line, the world's greatest detective had managed to remain calm through and through.

She saw that now, however, his calm demeanour had been nothing more than an act, because now he had begun to break down. Victory over humanity's biggest fear hadn't been enough to pull him away from the guilt that had stapled itself into his soul. Guilt over the death of his childhood friend…Halle couldn't comprehend what the pain must be like for him.

All she could do was stand and stare as Near brought one hand up to tangle a finger through his snow-white curls, and he said, "I'm sorry."

Shock slowly overcame her senses, and she opened her mouth to reply, but found she couldn't utter a word. Instead, she remained still in silence, before bowing politely and turning to leave the room in a hurry.

This brought a played and amused smirk to the boy's lips, and he turned away from the door quietly, busying himself by stacking a pile of dice that was scattered about in front of him.

Silence followed soon afterwards, however, and in an attempt to still his fear, Near brought a hand to knock over the tower he had made. The dice fell to the floor with a clatter, and the boy gritted his teeth as moisture begun to form in the corners of his eyes.

He clutched at his head and collapsed onto his side, curling up in a small little ball as the tears spilled down his now rosy cheeks. His vision of the linoleum floor became blurry, and the resonance of his own sobs reached his ears, causing him to cry harder in an attempt to block out the sound.

These anxiety attacks had begun to become more and more frequent, and being a stranger of letting his emotions flow, he found it became harder each and every time to contain himself.

It felt just so _good_ to cry, to let it all out in an attempt to understand why he was so sad in the first place. Nights seemed endless as the pain within his heart grew, and each morning he woke to find dark circles appearing under his eyes.

Maybe this was what fate wanted of him. If the title wasn't enough, he even had to grow to look like his deceased predecessor. Is this what awaited him in his life? To follow in the shadow of the man he hardly revered in the first place?

_There could only be one._

And that is why Mello had to die.

At the image of those familiar striking blue eyes, that tangle of golden hair, and the scars that were etched into the face of his childhood rival, Near had to muffle a scream as the heartache became more severe.

"_Near…I'll be waiting."_

Then where was he now?

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**R&R? No flames, please ^.^ I'll write a longer version later, but for now, please enjoy what I have here XD**


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